Within an hour of the call, the party was over and there was nothing left to do but clean up.
“You can go on home, Maddy,” Genesis told her friend. “I’ve got this.”
“Are you kidding? You let your staff go; I’m not about to leave you with all of this!”
“You need to be home when the kids get there. Find out how their first dates went.”
“I’m trying to block the words ‘first date’ from my mind. I still have a couple of hours left before I have to acknowledge them. All the kids are going back to Shannon’s and Matt’s after the dance. We parents pitched in for late-night pizza.”
“The expense of having teenagers is never-ending, huh?” Genny offered a sympathetic smile as she fell into a nearby chair and slipped off her high heels. Her sigh of relief was audible as she wiggled her toes.
“I hear it lets up in another twenty years or so. And I am so glad you just did that. I’ve been dying to get out of these shoes since about ten minutes after I arrived!”
“Any more of that champagne you were toting around all evening? I could go for a bottle or two right now.”
“Don’t we need to clean up first?” Madison suggested. She spotted a large opened bottle in an ice bucket and went to fetch it. “Of course, it’s already opened, and it would be a shame to let all that fizz go to waste...”
“My thoughts, exactly. Besides, the staff will be back in the morning to clean. I let them go tonight to celebrate what was left of Valentines.” She held out a flute, flashing her dimpled grin as Madison filled it. “My, you pour that with such flair, my dear.”
“Champagne was never my wine of choice, but Gray always insisted on serving it to our guests. Apparently he thought it showed class.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste as she filled both glasses. It was unclear whether the expression was for the beverage or for the opinions of her late husband.
Judging from her healthy gulp of the effervescent wine, Genny guessed the latter. “Thank you for all your help tonight,” she said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You had everything totally under control. All I did was smile and pour champagne. You did the hard stuff.”
They discussed the evening in detail, reliving the highlights and discussing conversations had or overheard. Madison told her friend about the odd encounter with Darla Mullins.
“It appears I have a new client,” she concluded uncertainly. “We never discussed money or terms or what I’m supposed to do, other than to be there ‘sharply at eight and not be late’.” She lowered her voice to do a stern and fierce imitation of the other woman.
“With Darla Mullins, it’s hard to say. She’s an odd duck.”
“That’s what Brash said.”
“Hmm. I saw you dancing. So what’s it like, dancing a slow dance with Mr. deCordova?” Genny’s grin had a conspiratorial air as she held out her glass for seconds. Or was it thirds? Her hand seemed a bit unsteady.
“To be honest, I don’t even know. Were my feet even touching the ground? My head was floating up somewhere in the clouds.” She poured herself more champagne with decidedly less finesse than earlier. Definitely their third round.
Madison swished the clear liquid around in her glass, watching as it sparkled and swirled. “Am I pathetic, or what? Almost forty years old, acting like a silly schoolgirl.”
Genesis took a big gulp from her own glass before admitting on a raw whisper, “I’m even worse.”
“How so?”
“I think I have a crush on a man half my age.” Her words were only slightly slurred.
“A nineteen-year-old? Seriously?”
“He might as well be,” Genesis moped. “What’s another five or six years, when I’m already old enough to be his cousin?”
Even to her sluggish brain, the words did not make sense. “There’s no age restrictions on cousins.”
“I know, but it sounds better than admitting the truth, that I’m old enough to be his sister.” One look at Madison’s confused expression, and Genny conceded. “Okay, okay, so I’m old enough to be his mother!”
The champagne made her mind fuzzy. Narrowing her eyes in an effort to focus on her thoughts, Madison ventured a guess. “Does this have anything to do with that X-rated dance you had with Cutter Montgomery?”
“You saw that, huh?”
“I was sitting behind old Mrs. Crowder and Gladys Peavey. They were practically drooling. And I think I may have gotten third-degree burns from the ricochet of Callie Beth Irwin’s searing glare as she watched you two.”
“My name is going to be drug through the gutter,” Genesis predicted with gloom.
“Why? Every female in town has a crush on Cutter Montgomery, from Dolly Mac Crowder and my great Aunt Lerlene, to Callie Beth and Shilo Dawne. I even heard the youngest little Hadley girl—who’s probably not even in Kindergarten yet—tell someone he was her boyfriend.”
Genesis brightened somewhat. “That’s true, isn’t it? I’m not just some pathetic old woman, right, trying to cling to my youth? I’m simply taken in by his charms, just like every other woman in town.”
“The man is a hunk, that’s for sure.” Madison held her glass up toward the light, surprised to find it empty once again. A frown curled her lips downward. “Do they even use that word anymore?”
“Now days I think you say the man is hot.” Draining her own glass, Genny mumbled, “And, Lord, is that man hot! Well equipped, too.”
“Genny!”
“Well? He was holding me tight. And certain things… happened.” A silly giggle escaped along with the admission.
“So this isn’t a one-sided crush.” Madison made the observation as she tried to recall something Granny Bert recently said, something about older women and younger men. More specifically, something about Cutter Montgomery and if she herself were thirty years younger… What was it her grandmother said?
What Madison thought was a light bulb suddenly flashed in her mind. Her champagne-besotted mind. “I know what this is!” she said brightly. “This is one of those tiger things!”
Genesis gave her a blank stare, finding it difficult to focus on only one image of her friend; several floated before her eyes.
“You know,” Madison explained, “when a sexy older woman takes on a boy-toy. A tiger.” Madison was quite pleased with herself for being so hip. And Bethani complains I’m behind the times. Pfft.
“Grrr. I’m a tiger.” Genny made a claw motion with her hand, then dissolved into giggles. She tried to say something else, but soon the giggles turned into out-right laughter.
The sound was contagious, drawing Madison under with its rolling current. Excessive champagne had a tendency to make everything funny. Soon tears were rolling down both women’s cheeks. Every time one of them would attempt a straight face, another wave of hilarity would hit and the laughter started all over again.
Her sides were aching by the time Madison managed to say, “I-I forget. Why are we laughing?”
Her question earned a hoot of mirth, but Genesis finally wheezed out her reply. “Because-Because- Because the word is ‘cougar’ not ‘tiger’!”
The blunder created another gale of laughter. Eventually Madison called for relief. “St-Stop! I can’t do this anymore! I-I hurt from laughing so much.”
“And I’ve got to pee! Thing is, I don’t remember where the bathroom is!” Genesis slapped the table as if she had told the world’s funniest joke.
Still snickering, Madison staggered to her feet and tugged on her friend’s arm. “C-Come on. I’ll show you.”
Genny’s face puckered with sudden melancholy. “Thank you, Maddy. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“That’s why we’re spending Valentines together, Genny. Just you and me.”
The thought was instantly sobering.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Madison knew it was too good to last. Almost midnight on Sunday night, her phone rang.
She did not bother with looking
at the screen. “What do you want, George Gail?” she mumbled groggily.
“I have to talk to you!” the other woman hissed frantically.
“What is it?”
“I think someone is outside!”
Madison stifled a yawn. “So wake your husband.”
“He’s not here. The fire flared back up at the Barn. I’m scared, Madison!”
“Then call the police.”
“I can’t! They might start asking questions.” As Madison reluctantly slid from her nice warm bed and headed toward the closet, quietly grumbling the entire way, George Gail continued. “And they might see the blood.”
“What blood?”
“The blood that was on the sheets last week!”
“Surely you’ve washed them by now.”
“Well of course, but they might use one of those purple light thingamajiggies. I watch TV, you know. I know how they can still detect blood, even after you’ve used bleach and painted over it a time or so. You can’t cover up blood.”
George Gail made even less sense than usual. Madison rubbed her eye and tried to follow the other woman’s babble. “You painted your sheets?” she asked in confusion.
“No, of course not. I’m just pointing out that they have ways of finding out about the blood. So you can see why I can’t call the police.”
“No, George Gail, I can’t.” Madison tried very hard to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “If you’re calling to report a possible break in, the police aren’t going to come into your house and search for blood stains.”
The woman gasped. “You think they’re trying to break in?” she squeaked in terror.
“I thought you said that.” Madison pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, silently counted to ten, and started over. “George Gail, why did you call me?”
“I want you to come over here.”
“No. It’s late and I’m already in bed. And you still owe me five hundred dollars from before.”
“Come over and I’ll pay you.”
“If someone is outside, call the police,” Madison advised in a sharp voice. “I’m going back to bed.”
“What if someone tries to kill me, too? What if they set another fire here at the house?”
“Fire?”
“You don’t think these fires are an accident, do you? Someone knew about Curtis and Caress, and they set the fire at the sale barn to send us a message.”
As much as she would like to hang up the phone, Madison found herself listening to the ludicrous claim. What if the fire really had been intentionally set? “What kind of message?” she ventured to ask.
“Come over and we can discuss it.”
“You’re just trying to trick me into coming over there.”
“All you have to do is drive by. You could pull up in the driveway and shine a flashlight around. If someone’s out there, you’ll scare them away.”
“I have a better idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“First of all, turn on all your outside lights.”
“I can do that.” Madison heard movement on the other end of the line as George Gail bustled about. “I’m flipping on the back porch light right now,” she confirmed, sounding relieved to have a solid plan.
“Perfect. Now when I give you the signal, I want you to hang up the phone.”
“What are you going to do? Are you on your way over?”
“No, I’m calling the police, and then I’m going back to bed. Here’s your signal. Goodnight, George Gail.”
***
Sharply at eight o-clock the next morning, Madison parked in front of the large old building with its newly painted sign. The name ‘Boundaries’ was neatly centered amid a border resembling a barbed wire fence. Checking to see that the contract was still snuggled inside its manila folder, Madison finger-combed the ends of her hair one last time and crawled from her car, into morning air frosty and sharp.
Darla Mullins greeted her with two snapped words. “You’re late.”
Madison checked the clock on her cell phone. “It’s two minutes after eight.”
“Precisely. I told you to be here sharply at eight o’clock, so that makes you two minutes late.”
Resisting the urge to call the whole thing off—she needed the money, after all—Madison plastered on a smile and asked, “What is it I can do for you, Mrs. Mullins? I’m afraid we never discussed the nature of the job.”
“Obviously, I’m a licensed surveyor,” the woman sniffed. Madison glanced around, wondering what made that fact so ‘obvious’. Other than the large drafting board off to one side of the room, an over-sized copier, and the long, shallow drawers of a few built-in cabinets, it seemed to be an ordinary office. A receptionist’s desk stopped guests just past the front door, standard pot plants filled all corners of the room, photographs of nature adorned the walls, and unmarked doors led to rooms unknown.
“We provide surveys,” Darla Mullins continued, “and all the legal documents and paperwork associated with them. We make numerous trips to county court houses, confirming plats and deeds and providing current information. You may be required to make such a trip, look up information on the internet, type documentation, draw up contracts, and accompany me in the field, as well as answer the telephone. Can you manage all that?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll be filling in for Natalie, who is out with a broken arm. My son also works here. I will be in and out this week, attending details of the funeral. Expect to work long hours.”
Without asking what Madison’s customary rate was, Darla Mullins informed her of the hourly wage she was willing to pay. Since it was two dollars more an hour than she normally charged, Madison let the bossy attitude slide as she whipped out the contract and secured a signature.
“The break room is behind that door, down the hall, first door on the right.” Darla stabbed a stubby finger at the middle doorway. “I take my coffee black.”
So I’m to be your gopher, Madison thought, but she offered her best fake smile as she stood her ground. “Shall I get us both a cup, while you make out a check?”
The surveyor balked at the notion of paying half the fee up front, but Madison referred to the newly signed contract. As the squatty woman grumbled and disappeared behind the first door, Madison went in search of the break room.
Hidden behind the middle door was a long, dark hall that dissected the rear of the building in half. Madison could not help but suppress a shiver; she hoped she was never sent to the nether ends of the hallway, which faded mysteriously away into the shadows.
There has to be a light switch around here somewhere, Madison thought, groping for one along the paneled walls. She reached the break room before finding one, but at least she found its switch easily enough. Incandescent light flooded out from the bulbs, spilling into the darkened hallway and making Madison feel a bit foolish.
She found a Keurig coffee maker in the break room and studied the selection of pods at her disposal. Which kind would Darla Mullins prefer? Instinct urged her to select the bold styling of Sumatra roast.
Now for the cup. Three stoneware mugs stood upside-down on a drying mat beside the sink. Madison determined Darla’s personal mug by the process of elimination. She could not imagine the other woman sipping from the rim of bright pink; this one, she decided, belonged to the absent Natalie. She would re-wash it and use the pink mug for herself. The brown and tan mug with ‘Texas’ emblazoned upon its side had a western feel. The son’s cup, no doubt. Which left the unmarked dark green mug, plain, simple, and surprisingly heavy, as Darla’s. The stark simplicity somehow suited the woman.
With two cups of coffee in tow, Madison returned to the front office. Darla was waiting with a check in hand. “Make sure I get my money’s worth,” she snapped. She did not thank Madison for the coffee, simply snatched it from her hand.
The sharp movement caused the dark liquid to splash over the edge. Just missing either woman’s hand, it dribbled down
to the floor. Darla watched it fall, then said, “You’ll find paper towels in the break room.” She turned and retreated to her office without another word, effectively adding the title of Janitor to Madison’s duties.
Madison was wiping up the mess when the hallway door opened and a man stepped into the room. His expression registered the same sense of surprise she knew was written upon her face.
So this is the son, she presumed. He had a great body, toned and well proportioned, but the scale was slight for a man. In a smaller setting—a child’s playhouse, for instance—his petite frame would be unnoticeable. But silhouetted in the doorway, the dark hall looming behind him like a yawning hole, the difference was pronounced.
Madison thought of the rumors about John Wayne, and how camera shots were angled and stage props set to make him appear taller than he actually was. Hollywood lore claimed he was often silhouetted through smaller-than-normal doorways to give the illusion of being a big and powerful man. This man, she mused, could use a similar prop.
He was strikingly handsome, with blond hair cut short and fashionable, and friendly blue eyes. His wardrobe, however, struck her as odd, especially here in The Sisters, where jeans and pearl snap shirts were standard attire. The crisp collar of a white button-up shirt pushed from the neck of his burgundy sweater. Beige chinos hugged his legs with their skinny cut. His flat-soled shoes were some sort of sheepskin lined suede and had the expensive look of a European designer. Except for the maturity she saw in his face, he could easily pass for a preppy teenager, dressed for a day on his father’s yacht.
“Mom didn’t tell me she had a new rug,” he said, the edges of his blue eyes crinkling with humor. “I approve.”
The waggled eyebrows made it impossible not to return his smile. Madison gave a final swipe of the floor and stood. She could feel his blue eyes flickering over her. She idly wondered if he approved of her simple but understated wardrobe: black slacks with tailored white shirt.
When the Stars Fall (The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series Book 2) Page 14